Chasing Shadows
by Ghost Whisper
Summary: It doesn't do to dwell on dreams. But sometimes you can't help yourself. And sometimes the dreams will come to life for a short while, before fading away. Written for Rhynne as part of the crossoverhp fic exchange. HPFinal Fantasy 7 crossover. Edited!


**Title: Chasing Shadows**

**Recipient: Rynne**

**Crossover: HP / Final Fantasy VII**

**Rating: G…I guess. Maybe PG if you count the vague references to violence (extremely vague)**

**Pairings: Nothing romantic. Sort of Harry-Sephiroth-friendship…but not really ;;**

**Summary: It doesn't do to dwell on dreams…but sometimes you can't help yourself. And sometimes the dreams come to life for a short while, before fading away. **

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**Chasing Shadows**

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In the silent room, a young boy collapses to his knees, shifting to a seated position and drawing his legs up in front of him. The stone floor is cool beneath him, but he doesn't mind so much. His 'bedroom' growing up hadn't been more than a cement floor without tiling, and bare wooden walls. With that as a memory, the chill of the room feels natural, and triggers a wave of not-entirely-pleasant nostalgia.

"I'd always wondered what they looked like," he whispers quietly, slightly awed at the sight before them. He remembers the time he'd first seen a picture of them and compares it to the one before him. There doesn't seem to be a difference. They are perfect – frozen in time.

A beautiful red-haired woman smiles at him and waves; while beside her a man with messy brown hair and thin-framed glasses gives an approving nod. Despite the realism of the scene, however, there is no sound, save for his steady breathing. He shivers slightly, and hugs his knees closer to himself to offset the way the shabby fabric of his pants lets the drafts in. He can almost imagine that he's the one trapped in a mirror, making his world a false image.

"That's…that's my life," he states quietly, with conviction. "That's the life I want to have." For between the images of his smiling parents is one of himself, both arms wrapped around either of the adults in a half hug. He would feel jealousy of this image that looks so much like him, save for the utter lack of sound that stems the growing reality of what he sees.

A world with no sound is not a world, after all. Even if he wishes it could be.

Hesitantly, the boy reaches out to stroke the reflective surface of the mirror, feeling a bit guilty for doing so. He shouldn't be in the same room as the powerful object, let alone touching it. Hadn't Dumbledore told him that it didn't do to dwell on dreams? But he can't help it anymore. He wants to hold tight to what he's lost, knowing somehow, that he'll lose even more in a short time.

Slowly, he traces the intricate patterns of the mirror's frame with his fingers. They seem to twine around it like serpents – tangible representations of all that is plaguing him.

Perhaps, it is fate that has prompted Dumbledore to allow the Mirror to remain hidden in the castle for the new school year. Perhaps it is fate that has brought him stumbling to this hidden room in the middle of the night, wishing desperately for a family, and a friend.

The boy sighs bitterly. As though being able to talk to snakes makes him unclean. Outcast. It is yet another reminder of a past that he never wished to have, and an enemy who will never allow him to live, given a chance to kill him.

It is all he can think of these days, to be accepted by someone who will care nothing for his background – perhaps won't even know of it. But, as Dumbledore had told him last year, it didn't do to dwell on dreams. He feels a sudden desperate urge to break the mirror, and run away, but forces it down stubbornly. He wants to be violent – have a tantrum like a small child.

No.

Slowly, he leans in to the mirror, resting his forehead on the glass…

And lifts it, startled, as the surface begins to heat up underneath this new touch.

The image of his parents is gone, flickering back into existence occasionally like the TV set Dudley had received for his tenth birthday, which he'd broken in a week and then tossed into his 'second bedroom' - Harry's bedroom now. Finally his parents' smiling faces don'tappear for more than a minute. The mirror is blank glass, free of its wonderful pictures from moments before, and the boy wonders for one heart-pounding minute whether he has broken it. Oh what would the Headmaster say! Then, upon looking closer, he narrows his eyes in thought, as he realizes something is not quite right. Although the mirror is reflecting a barren stone room, much like the one he is sitting in, he himself is not in the reflection.

There are little things also, like the fact that the other room has a chair in it, which his doesn't and thesmall tapestry in his room, which is substituted by a dirty looking picture of a creature –unknown- in the other.

And then someone else walks into the image in the mirror.

The new person stares wide-eyed at him through the glass, bright leaf green eyes fixing on him with a slightly panicked look, from behind stringy sliver hair that trails down to his waist. It's a boy, he realizes suddenly, thrown off at first by the long hair and delicate features; a boy who seems near to his own age, though infinitely more self-possessed.

'_What are you doing here!'_ The boy hisses at him, pulling his silver hair away from his face, revealing a dark number 01 tattooed on his hand, and glaring at him from behind a black eye. '_I'm the only one allowed in this room! Hojo doesn't let anyone else in.'_

He stares wide-eyed at the boy, feeling the stillness that had gathered so carefully in the room shatter at the words. Sucking in his breath, he prepares to speak, and drive another blade of sound through it, and tenses at the sudden fear of discovery that pounds through him. "I – I'm not in – your room," He stutters haltingly, feeling his heart beat wildly – an adrenaline rush at breaking the rules, though he should have long ago grown used to it.

The other boy looks surprised at his answer, before staring at him with narrowed eyes. He walks closer to his side of – whatever it is that separates them – and places a hand on it. '_How did you do that to the mirror? What Materia_ _is this?' _His fingers press against the barrier, but don't leave smudges.

"I didn't-" He swallows firmly, before going on, determined to not stutter any longer. He's not a coward. "I didn't do anything to the mirror. I think. And I don't know quite what you mean by materia."

The other crosses his arms, looking rather put out. '_Magic'_ he says, stressing the word as though he were speaking to someone extremely simple. '_You take a materia like this,'_ and he holds out a small green gem, _'and then you activate it with the proper words'. _He whispers something quietly, sparking a small blaze. _I was taught how to use them a long time ago by my instructors – but maybe you can't use magic…I suppose…'_

"I can use magic!" He says, his voice rising slightly in surprise. "But I don't use materia, I use a wand." And here, he holds out his wand –Holly and Phoenix feather- in the same manner that the other had held out his 'materia' minutes before.

The other boy looks intrigued, bending closer to get a better look at the wood. _'I've never heard of magic like this,'_ he says. _'But Hojo likes to keep secrets from me, so I don't suppose I should be surprised.' _There's irritation, and even contempt in the boy's voice, but also a resigned sort of resignation – the same way that he speaks about the Dursley's to Ron and Hermione.

He nods, not having the faintest clue of who the other boy is referring to, but wanting to remain polite all the same. Feeling as though he should introduce himself, he hesitantly speaks up. "I'm Harry."

The silver-haired boy looks surprised at being given a name so suddenly, and gives him a suspicious look. _'You're telling me your name? If you're trying to be my friend to get on my good side – or Hojo's good side, then it won't work. I'm not a fool.' _

Harry sends a confused look at the boy. "I don't know who Hojo is, but it's generally considered polite to tell someone your name when you meet them. And then I don't have to say something like 'hey you' if I want to get your attention." He's a little more confident now, having something to say that isn't a confused question. He hates always having to ask questions that he should know the answers to.

'_Well there's hardly anyone else you could be talking to,"_ the other casts a sardonic look around both of their empty rooms, and tosses his head, throwing a stray lock of hair over his shoulder. It's an unusual color, but looks sadly neglected. _'But I suppose it can't hurt to tell you my name. Most people around here know it anyways. I'm Sephiroth.'_

"Most people know it? How come?"

'_Because I'm Hojo's pet project, and no one wants to mess with him. Because I'm the youngest person to ever become part of Soldier, and still one of the strongest, and no one wants to mess with me.'_ Sephiroth exhales loudly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking irritated, though there's just a bit of a smirk when he mentions that other's don't want to mess with him. _'Everyone just knows me.' _He reaches up to absently touch the skin around his black eye, not wincing, and mutter quietly enough that it is almost out of reach of Harry's ears. _'Not that I care.' _

Harry feels a strange sense of kinship with this boy, who seems to be in a situation so similar to his own. He suddenly has the urge to tell this boy about himself – his life, and how everyone expects him to defeat Voldemort – his status as the famous 'Boy Who Lived'.

He holds back.

"I…Think I understand," he says quietly, not elaborating. Sephiroth raises a doubtful eyebrow.

'_Really? You don't really look like someone people would be scared of.' _

"I'm not. But I know what it's like to have people always know who you are – expect things of you…" He has a thoughtful look on his face, and rubs his scar. "And I'm not the one with a black eye." Has he gone to far? Has he insulted Sephiroth, who has taken the time to talk to him, and knows nothing abut him? Harry winces inside, wishing he could take back the moment.

The two are silent for a time, before Sephiroth answers him stiffly. _"As a member of Soldier, I have to fight a lot. And Hojo wanted to see how well I would hold up against a new creature he created."_ A look of disgust crosses his face.

Harry fights a yawn, realizing how late it is. He has a test in Transfigurations tomorrow… and bed sounds like a good idea. For now, the depression and unease that was keeping him awake has faded. Hesitant of offending his new –friend?- he speaks up again. "I really shouldn't be here for too long. If I get caught, I'll be in trouble. But I would like to talk to you again – if I can. I don't really know how this happened, but it's nice to have someone I can talk to; someone who's not…like everyone else."

'_Maybe. At least you're not like those fawning idiots who want a promotion – but my time is rather limited. Between my job as a Soldier, and Hojo's stupid lab…'_ he trails off, his eyes hardening in anger, though he doesn't voice why. _'But that's only if whatever you did to my mirror is something you can do again.' _

"I'll try then. Maybe tomorrow night – and you can try to be there?" He smiles hopefully, and gains a stiff nod.

'_Fine.'_

Feeling lighter of heart, he pulls himself up, and throws his invisibility cloak over himself. Sephiroth has turned away from the Mirror, and as Harry does so, he catches a glimpse of the mirror flickering into a new image out of the corner of his eye. His parents are back.

For a moment, he wants to sit back down in front of the Mirror, and watch his parents smile at him once again. He wants to allow the silence to wrap around him, so that he can pretend the world he exists in is false, and that the one in the Mirror is the truth – a far happier truth than he lives.

And then he yawns. And the moment of indecision fades. There is always tomorrow night…and perhaps he can force the Mirror to show him Sephiroth again…and they can talk. About not being normal.

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The following evening, Harry walked into the room where he'd met Sephiroth, only to find it empty. The Mirror of Erised was gone.

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End


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